


More Than This Life

by LibraryMage



Series: Superhero AU [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: 3 + 1 times, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: Three times Kanan saved Ezra + one time Ezra saved him.





	1. April 16th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for Whumptober 2019 prompt #28: beaten

Kanan was at the point of only just becoming unsteady on his feet as he left the bar and began walking down the street toward his small apartment just a few blocks away, his hands in his pockets and his head bowed against the night air, still freezing in mid-April. He let that frigid air fill his lungs, cutting harshly at the warm buzz that had built up in his chest. He didn’t particularly care about the cold. He’d be home soon enough. Once he got there, he could collapse into bed and slip into unconsciousness.

Up ahead, he could hear something scuffling loudly in an alley. Probably a couple of raccoons fighting over something they’d found in the trash; nothing he needed to worry about. But as he drew closer, he heard a distinctively human sound, a cry of “no!” that was quickly muffled.

Spurred into action by instincts he had never been able to abandon completely, Kanan ran forward, hanging a sharp left into the alley. He slowed as he quickly assessed the situation the way Depa had taught him so many years ago.

There were four people in the alley and it appeared to be three against one. A young boy was struggling in the grip of an older teen or young man. The boy’s arms were pulled behind his back, the man’s other hand pressed tightly over his mouth. One of the other men had a knife drawn, the point of it held up under the boy’s chin. Kanan would put the odds of resolving this without a fight at about fifty-fifty.

“Let him go,” Kanan said, cursing the slight tremor in his voice. He hadn’t had enough to drink that his words were slurring, but he was _just_ buzzed enough to be dismissed as a threat, just some random drunk idiot who would lose interest and walk away within the next few seconds. And the less seriously these guys took him, the more likely this would end up coming to blows.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the man holding the knife said, sparing Kanan a quick glance before turning his attention back to the boy. “Just walk away and we can pretend this didn’t happen.”

“Sure,” Kanan said, taking another step forward. “Just let go of the kid and we’ll be on our way.”

“You heard him,” the third man said, stepping forward, his hand twitching toward his pocket where Kanan was sure he had his own weapon. “Get moving if you know what’s good for you.”

Kanan took half a step back, as if he were reconsidering. His gaze darted briefly to the side and he locked eyes with the boy for a moment as he tried to silently communicate _trust me_.

He flung himself forward, throwing an arm around the neck of the man holding the knife and wrenching him back. His first priority had to be getting that blade away from the boy’s neck.

The man swung wildly at Kanan with the knife. Kanan narrowly avoided the first slash at his shoulder, the burst of adrenaline clearing his head just enough to help him think straight. With his free hand, he grabbed the man’s forearm just below his elbow, digging his fingers in hard enough that he knew the man would wake up with bruises in the morning.

The boy took advantage of the other men’s surprise at Kanan’s actions and stomped on the foot of the man holding him. Kanan didn’t have time to dwell on the kid as he saw the third man coming at him. He released his grip on the neck of the man he was holding, shifting until he had the man’s arm locked straight. He wrenched at it until he heard the sharp _crack_ of a shoulder dislocating. As the man let out a shout of pain, Kanan whipped around and flung him into his comrade.

He spared a glance toward the kid, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the boy was pinned against the wall, the final man’s hands around his throat. The boy kicked, his foot slamming into the man’s crotch. The man let out a yell of pain as he instinctively released the boy. He drew his fist back, about to swing at the boy’s face. Kanan grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back and throwing him to the ground.

“Come on!” Kanan said, grabbing the kid’s arm and running for the mouth of the alleyway.

They made it a whole block before they slowed down. A quick glance back told Kanan they weren’t followed.

“Hey,” he said, pulling the kid off to one side. “Are you okay?”

The moment he took a good look at the boy, Kanan regretted the question. The boy’s face was covered in bruises, and there were still more around his neck, not just from the man pinning him to the wall. From the awkward way he held himself, Kanan could easily guess there were other injuries hidden under his clothes. Those three men hadn’t just grabbed him; they’d beaten him. And by the looks of things, they weren’t the only ones who had done so recently.

“I’m fine,” the boy said, wrenching himself out of Kanan’s grip. “I had that handled.”

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Kanan might have laughed.

“From where I’m standing, it looked like you were about to get your throat cut,” Kanan said.

“I had it under control,” the boy insisted, taking a step back, away from Kanan.

“Alright,” Kanan said, getting the sense that trying to argue with the kid wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “But they might come back. At least let me walk you home.”

“Right,” the boy said, taking another step back until he was out of arm’s reach of Kanan. “I’m just going to show a total stranger where I live.”

Kanan winced as he reminded himself that in the kid’s position, he wouldn’t trust some random guy offering to walk him home, either.

“Just be careful,” Kanan said.

The kid was already turning away, his only response a dismissive _mm-hmm_. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his orange hoodie and ducked his head as he headed off down the street. He glanced back once, probably to make sure Kanan wasn’t following him.

Before long, the kid had turned a corner and disappeared. Kanan’s shoulders dropped slightly as the adrenaline of the fight and the escape wore off and his head began to spin. He glanced around, trying to determine where exactly his feet had carried him as he’d fled with the kid. He was only a few blocks out of his way. With a sigh, Kanan tucked his hands into his own pockets. He was starting to feel the cold again.

With one more quick glance in the direction the boy had gone, Kanan turned away and began walking toward home.

It had been over a decade since he’d felt that push driving him into action. He didn’t know what it was about tonight or about the kid that had driven him to it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he had just been drinking too much and rushed into danger. He didn’t know, but unfortunately, he was still _just_ able to care.

But in the end, it didn’t matter. They’d gotten away relatively unscathed and the kid was gone now. Kanan would probably never see him again. There was no point in dwelling on it.

* * *

Ezra paused and glanced back over his shoulder again. He had determined a while ago that he wasn’t being followed, but now that he was getting closer to his current squat, he wanted to be absolutely certain. Seeing no sign of the men from the alley or the man who’d rescued him, he quickly turned into another alley.

He hauled himself up onto a dumpster and leapt for the ladder to a fire escape. It had been jammed so it couldn’t be pulled down since long before he’d taken up residence here, which was fine by him. It meant less of a chance of anyone getting the drop on him.

He quickly scaled the ladder until he reached a small platform on the third floor. The dilapidated building had long since been condemned, but for now, it was still standing, and the gaping pit in the ground floor kept most people from trying to gain access to it.

Ezra crawled through the window into a dark room, making sure to land loudly to scare off any mice or rats that might be in the room. He winced as the bruises he’d received earlier ached. He crossed the room to the small jug of water he kept in the corner, eyeing its contents, trying to judge whether he could spare any right now. After a moment, he retrieved a rag and poured a small amount of water on it, wiping at the open cut on his forehead. It wasn’t exactly sanitary, but he figured it was cleaner than the alley he’d been beaten in.

He kicked at the pile of blankets he slept in. When nothing emerged, he lay down, wrapping a few of the blankets around himself. He should have known better than to steal from anyone who worked for the Gray syndicate, but it had seemed like an easy score. His mark had been new, inexperienced, and Ezra had thought it would be simple. He hadn’t counted on there being a second lookout. He certainly hadn’t thought that they’d be able to track him down.

He’d gotten lucky when that guy had wandered into the alley; he knew that. The closest animal he’d been able to sense was a rat, and one rat would have done nothing against the three men who’d attacked him. But he couldn’t admit that he’d actually needed the help. The last thing he needed was to be in that guy’s debt. You didn't survive as long as he had by accepting help from strangers on the street.

Ezra pulled up his hood as he burrowed deeper into his nest of old stolen and discarded blankets, his bruised limbs protesting as he moved too quickly. His parents had always told him that he was special, that he’d been given his gift for a reason. He wondered what they would think if they saw him now, using it to get a cat to distract a 10-year-old lookout so he could pickpocket a drug dealer.


	2. April 23rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for Whumptober prompts #5 (gunpoint), #12 ("Don't move."), #4 (human shield), and alt#7 (winded)

Ezra felt more than heard the footsteps on the pavement behind him. He began to turn around only for a hand to close around his forearm, twisting his arm up behind his back as he was shoved face first into a wall.

“Don’t move,” a voice growled.

Ezra squirmed in the man’s grip, trying to throw him off until he felt something press against his back.

“I said don’t move,” the man said. “And don’t make a sound.”

Ezra’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man’s voice. Thorne. Ezra wasn’t sure if it was the man’s real name or a nickname. He _was_ sure of the fact that he worked for the Gray syndicate.

“You’re going to come with me,” Thorne said. “And you’re going to be quiet.”

“No,” Ezra growled.

He gasped as the gun dug harder into his back.

“We know you’re the one who stole part of that shipment yesterday,” Thorne said. “Did you really think we’d let you get away with it?”

“It wasn’t me,” Ezra said, his voice shaking. He whimpered as Thorne wrenched his arm back further.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” Thorne said.

He wrenched Ezra away from the wall and shoved him forward, forcing him into an alley where a beat-up gray van was waiting. Ezra’s heart hammered as he felt the gun still at his back. If he tried to run, Thorne might shoot him. If he was put into that van, his odds of escaping would be next to nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing as hard as he could, trying to find any animals that he could call to his aid. The nearest one he could sense was a cat in an apartment down the street. Even if it could get out, there was no way it would get to him in time to help.

Ezra’s thoughts were racing so fast he couldn’t hold onto any of them. There was only the gun at his back, the hand gripping him tightly, and the gray van growing closer and closer.

“Let the kid go.”

The voice broke through haze of terror clouding Ezra’s mind. He knew that voice from somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. His shoulder strained as Thorne forced him to turn around. His eyes widened slightly when he saw who was standing in the mouth of the alley. It was the same man who’d helped him a week before.

“Get back,” Thorne said. Ezra winced as the gun was pressed harder against his back. He could feel something burning behind his eyes and blinked rapidly. He wasn’t going to cry. He _wasn’t_.

The man ignored Thorne’s threat and took another step into the alley. Ezra’s breathing hitched. _Please don’t do anything stupid_, he thought. _Please, please, please._

“I’m giving you one chance to just let him go and walk away,” the man said.

Thorne pulled the gun away from Ezra’s back, pointing it at the man who’d entered the alley. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the man stepped forward, his hand twitching as though he were about to do something.

Even as his heart was pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest, Ezra sensed something on the very edge of his awareness. Another presence; a quiet, subtle one. A bird, about to fly right over the alley. It was better than nothing.

Ezra reached out with his mind, silently ordering the bird to change course. There was no time to gently convince it to do what he wanted.

The sparrow swooped down, diving right toward them. Ezra ducked his head, letting the bird fly directly into Thorne’s face.

“The fuck?!”

Thorne instinctively released Ezra as his hand swiped at the air in an attempt to fend off the creature that had just hit him. Ezra took his chance and bolted toward the mouth of the alley. He tripped as he felt a hand try to snatch at the back of his hoodie, falling to the ground and scraping his palms as he landed.

There was a loud _crack_ of a gunshot and Ezra yelped, ducking his head. He looked up just in time to see the stranger raise one hand and _push_ at the air in front of him. At the edges of his vision, Ezra could see a burst of light. Before he could turn his head to see what had happened, the man grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet and out of the alley. Ezra stumbled as he glanced back to see Thorne on the ground, cursing loudly as he pressed his hands against a bleeding wound in his leg.

Ezra just barely managed to keep up with the man as they ran, not caring how much attention they attracted until they had put as much distance as they could between themselves and the alley.

When they finally stopped, Ezra was gasping for breath. Flinching away from the hand the man put on his shoulder to steady him, he glanced around. They were at the edge of a park. A place with plenty of witnesses, Ezra noted, but far enough away from everyone else that they wouldn’t be overheard easily.

“Kid,” the man said, bracing his hand against the back of a bench. “You have got to stop pissing those guys off.”

Still winded from their narrow escape, Ezra said nothing as he drew in sharp, gasping breaths.

“What did you do this time?” the man asked.

“I – I didn’t do anything,” Ezra said, forcing the words out between breaths. “They thought I stole from them, but I didn’t. Not this time.”

Finally getting his breath back, Ezra looked up at the man, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He’d seen that burst of light and Thorne with his own bullet in his leg, and he was certain this man had done something to cause it.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. He knew that there were other people like him, or at least, there had been once, but he’d never met one before. Some strange light wasn’t proof that this guy was like him, and he had to be careful not to say anything to get himself caught until he knew for sure.

“I – what did you do back there?” Ezra asked. “I saw…” he trailed off. He didn’t know how to explain it without tipping his hand.

“The same thing you did,” the man said. Ezra’s heart skipped a beat.

“I – I didn’t –”

“Kid, I saw what you did with that bird,” the man said, keeping his voice low to make sure he wasn’t overheard. “And it’s okay. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Ezra’s shoulders went stiff as he stayed rooted to the spot, two competing instincts fighting for control. Part of him knew he should just pretend he didn’t know what this guy was talking about and leave. A much louder, more insistent part of him wanted to stay, to know for sure.

“You –” he said, stammering slightly as he tried to figure out what to say. “You’re –”

“Like you,” the man said with a nod.

Ezra’s first instinct was to deny it. His parents had warned him never to let anyone find out. But this man apparently already knew. And he didn’t know if that made it safe to tell him, or more dangerous.

The man stepped to the side so his back was turned to the park and the people in it. He held up his hand and as Ezra watched a glowing field of blue-white light appeared, small enough that it only covered the man’s palm. Ezra stared for a moment, then looked up again. The man’s eyes were closed tightly, his brow furrowed as he concentrated until the light flickered and vanished and he drew in a sharp gasp of air as if he’d just been running again.

“Are you okay?” Ezra asked.

“I’m fine,” the man said. “It just takes a lot of focus to keep them small, and we couldn’t risk anyone seeing.”

Ezra’s gaze dropped back to the man’s hand, as if the light was still there. That must have been what he’d seen in the alley.

“You have a name, kid?” the man asked.

At Ezra’s hesitation, he spoke again.

“I’m Kanan,” he said.

Ezra swallowed nervously before speaking.

“Ezra.”

His stomach churned as soon as he said it, regret immediately flooding his mind. Just because Kanan was like him didn’t mean it was safe to tell him anything. He probably shouldn’t even be _seen_ with him.

“I should go,” Ezra said, quickly taking a step back.

“You sure you’re okay to get back home by yourself?” Kanan asked.

Ezra nodded quickly. He wasn’t about to explain to Kanan that “home” was a loose term. Before Kanan could say another word, Ezra had turned around, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began walking away.


	3. May 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for Whumptober 2019 prompts #11 (stitches) and #23 (bleeding out)

Kanan easily recognized the dark-haired figure in the bright orange hoodie from half a block away. Ezra was backed up against a brick wall, a pale blond man in a police officer’s uniform towering over him, a hand on his shoulder, pinning him to the wall. As Kanan picked up his pace, Ezra turned his head, staring directly at him and shaking his head just enough for Kanan to notice.

As Kanan stopped in his tracks, the cop grabbed Ezra’s chin, forcing the kid to look at him again. Ezra tried to pull away, only for the cop to shove his head back against the wall. Kanan couldn’t hear what the officer was saying to Ezra, but he could see the kid’s shoulders stiffen. He could practically _feel_ Ezra’s fear and the suppressed hatred bristling beneath it.

As the cop released his grip on Ezra’s face, the kid nodded quickly, keeping his gaze on the ground. Kanan averted his eyes as the cop turned away from the kid, not wanting to draw attention to himself as a witness and potentially cause more trouble for Ezra.

As the officer walked away, Kanan walked up to Ezra, who was now slumped against the wall, drawing in a long, shaking breath.

“You okay?” Kanan asked.

“I’m fine,” Ezra muttered.

In spite of Ezra’s words, Kanan could see fresh bruises on his face. As Ezra turned to face him, he winced and pressed his hand to his right side. Kanan looked down to see blood on the kid’s hand, seeping through his clothes.

“Kid,” Kanan said. “That’s too much blood.”

“It’s fine,” Ezra said, though Kanan could see his hands beginning to shake.

“You need to see a doctor,” Kanan said.

“Do I look like I can afford that?” Ezra snapped.

“There’s a free clinic not far from here,” Kanan said. “If we get you there fast, they should be able to take care of you without sending you to the hospital.”

“I know about it,” Ezra said, his voice bitter. “I can't go there.”

“If it’s the cops you’re worried about –”

“I can't go,” Ezra said. “I _can't_.”

There was something in his voice, some combination of desperation and fear and an attempt at defiance. Something that told Kanan he was deadly serious.

“Is there someone who can help?” Kanan asked, already suspecting the answer was no. “Your parents or –”

“No,” Ezra said, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

As he stepped away from the wall, Ezra stumbled. Kanan reached out a hand to help him and Ezra flinched away, bracing his hand against the wall again. Either he had lost more blood that Kanan had first thought, or the bruises on his face weren’t the only ones he had.

“Look,” Kanan said. “I can help you. If you can't see a doctor, I can take care of it.”

Ezra looked up at him, his blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Ezra, you probably need stitches,” Kanan said. “If you’re lucky, that’s all you need.”

Ezra looked down at his hand pressed against his side for a moment before he looked back up at Kanan.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Ezra asked.

“I did save your life twice already,” Kanan said.

Ezra hesitated. Kanan could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head as he weighed his options. He also knew that there wasn’t much time to think.

“Okay,” Ezra said quietly.

“Come on,” Kanan said.

He put a hand on Ezra’s shoulder and this time, the kid didn’t flinch away. In spite of the wound to his side, Ezra kept pace with Kanan as he led the way back toward his apartment.

* * *

The stairwell Kanan led him into was dimly lit, the steps creaking with age. Ezra hesitated, clutching at the railing. He knew the smart thing to do was to turn and run. But something in the back of his mind nudged at him, urging him to follow, to trust Kanan.

Still, Ezra’s stomach twisted nervously as they turned down a narrow, dark hallway. As Kanan unlocked a door and led him through it, Ezra hung back, glancing around the room they’d stepped into. It was small, just a little brighter than the hallway, with a few empty beer cans scattered across various surfaces.

Kanan looked over his shoulder to see Ezra waiting by the door.

“It’s okay,” Kanan said. “Look.”

He crossed the small room and opened each of the two doors on the other side of it, revealing a small bedroom and a bathroom.

“See?” he said. “There’s no one else here.”

In some ways that _did_ make Ezra feel less nervous, but just barely. He stepped farther into the room, letting the door close behind him.

“Light’s best in the kitchen,” Kanan said. “I’ll be right there.”

Ezra slowly trudged over to the kitchen, sitting on a stool at the counter as Kanan ducked into the bathroom. A moment later, Kanan emerged, holding a bottle of antiseptic, a large bandage, and a small needle. He set the implements down on the counter in front of Ezra before sliding a half-empty bottle across the counter toward him. Ezra eyed the bottle and, seeing that it was whiskey, he shook his head. He might be willing to let Kanan stitch up his wound since he had no other options, but he wasn’t about to accept alcohol offered by a near stranger.

“Alright,” Kanan said. “Let’s see it.”

Ezra removed his hoodie and shirt, wincing as he raised his arms over his head. He let out a quiet _hiss_ as he looked down and saw the full extent of the injury.

“This will sting a little,” Kanan said, pouring some of the antiseptic onto a cloth.

Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling around the edge of the counter as Kanan began cleaning out the wound.

“That cop do this to you?” Kanan asked.

“Kind of,” Ezra said. “It’s from a few days ago. He just reopened it.”

“I’m about to start stitching,” Kanan said. “It’ll hurt a little. Just keep talking if that’ll distract you.”

Ezra bit back a whimper as Kanan pierced his skin with the needle. He wracked his brain for anything he could talk about. But all he could think about was Kallus punching him in the stomach and slamming him into the wall.

“His name’s Kallus,” Ezra muttered, gritting his teeth against the pain. “He kind of hates me.”

“Any particular reason?” Kanan asked.

“Yeah,” Ezra muttered. “As far as he’s concerned, I should be rotting in prison with…” he stopped himself, biting back the words he’d been about to say “…no one.”

Kanan didn’t comment on Ezra’s hesitation, simply continuing to stitch up Ezra’s wound.

“He just gives me a hard time,” Ezra said. He forced out a soft laugh, trying to make it seem like it was no big deal. He didn’t want Kanan to worry about him, as he was so clearly beginning to do. “I think it’s his hobby.”

They fell into an awkward silence as Kanan focused on what he was doing and Ezra bit down on the inside of his cheek, both to distract himself from the pain of the stitches and to stop himself from saying anything else.

“You doing okay?” Kanan asked.

Ezra nodded, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as the needle pierced his skin again. At long last, he felt Kanan place the bandage over his wound.

“There,” Kanan said. “Done.”

Ezra let out a quiet sigh of relief and pulled his shirt and hoodie back on, barely stifling a yelp of pain as he moved too quickly.

“Think you can find your way back here in a week so I can take those stitches out?” Kanan asked.

“Yeah,” Ezra said. He kept his gaze on the countertop, running his finger along the edge of it as he avoided looking at Kanan. He _was_ grateful for the help, but he hated the fact that he needed it in the first place.

“Thanks,” he muttered. He sighed and tore his gaze away from the countertop, forcing himself to look over at Kanan. “I should get going.”

Kanan looked like he was about to speak, but he hesitated, and for a moment, Ezra was sure that Kanan had been about to try and convince him not to leave.

“Just keep that as clean as you can,” Kanan said. “And don’t get into any more fights.”

This time, Ezra’s laugh was genuine.

“No promises,” he said.


	4. May 9th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for Whumptober 2019 prompt #10 (unconscious)

Ezra’s eyes darted around quickly as he walked, scanning the area around him for any potential danger. He was getting dangerously close to the places he’d already been attacked before. But this was where Kanan lived, and unfortunately, Ezra had no idea how to remove his stitches on his own. Even if he could, Ezra was surprised to realize that he actually _wanted_ to see Kanan again. It had been so long since anyone had even tried to look out for him, and even though they’d only met a few times, it almost seemed like Kanan actually…cared?

Ezra felt almost embarrassed even thinking it. Just because Kanan had helped him didn’t mean Kanan _cared_ about him as a person. Ezra had long since learned that most people didn’t help unless they wanted something from you, and the few who did lost interest quickly. He had no reason to believe that Kanan would be any different. And yet, here he was, ready to accept the man’s help again, even though he didn’t know what the cost would end up being.

Ezra slowed down, glancing around again as he realized he was coming close to the alley where he and Kanan had first met. The place made him nervous. No, more than nervous. It was like something was buzzing under his skin, through his veins, twisting around in the back of his head, warning him that danger could appear out of nowhere at any moment. It had before, and it could again.

As he passed the alley, he peered into it, stopping in his tracks when he saw someone there.

Kanan.

He was on the ground, a wound on his forehead bleeding sluggishly. His eyes were just barely open and he wasn’t moving.

Ezra rushed into the alley, kneeling down next to Kanan and shaking his shoulder.

“Kanan?” he said. “Can you hear me?”

Kanan’s eyes opened wider before his lids drooped again. Ezra glanced back over his shoulder, as if someone who could help would have appeared behind him. But of course, there was no one. He’d have to handle this himself.

He reached into Kanan’s pockets but came up empty except for a key. Either he didn’t have a phone, he’d left it at home, or whoever had done this to him had taken it.

“Okay,” Ezra muttered, piecing together a plan in his mind. He knew he wasn’t far from Kanan’s place. If he could get him back there, maybe he could find a neighbor who knew Kanan and liked him well enough to be willing to help.

He grabbed Kanan’s shoulder again, pulling him up into a sitting position before sliding an arm around his torso and settling the man’s arm over his shoulder. He gritted his teeth as he stood up, dragging Kanan with him. Realizing what Ezra was doing, Kanan tried to help balance himself, taking some of his weight off of Ezra’s shoulders.

“Ezra?” Kanan muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Ezra said. “I’m just getting you home. It’s not far.”

Kanan said nothing else as they made their way through the streets to the same run-down building Kanan had taken Ezra to before. Getting up the stairs was a challenge, but they managed. Ezra took Kanan’s key from where he’d stashed it in his own pocket and unlocked the door, leading Kanan inside.

Once the door was safely shut and locked behind them, Ezra let Kanan collapse onto the couch and quickly scanned the room. Seeing a phone on the counter, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“I’m calling 911,” he said. He had barely taken one step when Kanan’s hand darted out, closing around his wrist.

“No,” Kanan said. “I – I can't.”

Ezra froze, his heart hammering. If it wasn’t safe for Kanan to go to the hospital, then Ezra didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen someone this badly hurt before.

“Just help me up,” Kanan said.

Ezra did so, just grateful to have _someone_ telling him what to do about this. To his surprise, Kanan managed a few steps on his own before he stumbled, catching himself with a hand against the wall.

“I’m fine,” Kanan said as Ezra started toward him. “It looks worse than it really is.”

Ezra knew it was a lie. Kanan had barely been able to stand when Ezra had first found him. It was exactly as bad as it looked. Still, as Ezra watched, Kanan made his way to the bedroom door, bracing a hand against the doorframe as he looked back over his shoulder.

“Just go home,” Kanan said. “I’ll be fine.”

Ezra stared for a moment before nodding. Satisfied with his answer, Kanan stumbled into the bedroom. As the door closed, Ezra shut his eyes, listening intently for any sign that Kanan had fallen or hurt himself. Hearing nothing, Ezra opened his eyes again and darted across the room, grabbing the phone off of the counter. He glanced briefly at Kanan’s bedroom door before he turned on the phone, opening up the web browser and quickly typing “what to do for a concussion.”

* * *

Kanan’s head was pounding.

As he opened his eyes, he flinched, his hand flying up to shield himself from the light coming in through the window. He groaned as he sat up, resting his head in his hands as he tried to piece together what had happened. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten back here, but he was home, and apparently he’d slept in his clothes. He didn’t _think_ he’d been drinking last night, and the pain in his head and stiffness in his limbs felt somehow different from hangovers he'd had before.

Pain shot through his side as he dragged himself to the edge of the bed. He gasped and lifted his shirt until he saw the bruises along his side.

What the hell had happened last night?

Kanan staggered as he got to his feet, but managed to stay standing. That had to be a good sign, right?

When he opened the door, he froze when he saw a small figure curled up on a corner of the couch. The figure looked up, and Kanan recognized the wide blue eyes immediately.

“Ezra?” he asked.

“I slept on your couch,” Ezra said quietly.

Judging by the dark circles around his eyes, Kanan guessed that the kid hadn’t actually done much sleeping. As he stood there, staring at the boy huddled on the couch, the pieces of the night before slowly began to fall into place in his mind. He could vaguely remember Ezra shaking him awake a few times during the night, asking him questions. His name, what month it was, what city they were in…

He had a concussion. That explained things.

As he came to that conclusion, another fragment of memory returned. He’d been pulled into that alley by a group of men. Three of them were the ones who’d been there the night he first met Ezra, and none of them were happy with him for interfering.

That definitely explained things.

“You brought me home, didn’t you?” he asked.

Ezra nodded, stifling a yawn. Kanan ducked back into his room and pulled the extra blanket from the closet. Stepping back into the living room, he tossed it to Ezra, who caught it and stared at it in confusion for a moment.

“Get some real sleep,” Kanan said.

“A—are you sure?” Ezra asked, glancing at the door. “I can –”

“I owe you one,” Kanan said. “The least I can do is let you sleep here.”

Ezra hesitated for a moment before he stretched out on the couch, pulling the blanket over him, half-burying his face in it.

Kanan stumbled into the bathroom, his head still spinning. Before he closed the door behind him, he glanced back to see that the kid was already asleep.

_Good_, Kanan thought. _He needs it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...


End file.
